Love Is Like a Sin, My Love
by IdratherbeinBritain
Summary: "Breathtaking… Curious, mischievous, opinionated… Infuriating. Delicate one minute, foul-mouthed the next. My love for her was a physical ache in the pit of my belly that I never wanted to be free from. She thought she could save me." Sylvie.
1. Theater and Art

"_**Love is like a sin my love, for the ones that feels it the most. Look at her with her eyes like a flame; she will love you like a fly will never love you, again."**____**Paradise Circus, Massive Attack**_

_**(break)**_

"Look at you," he murmured, smile touching his lips with the barest of thoughts.

Just the sight of her made him smile. Those challenging brown eyes, and that face. Hal's heart seized with joy at the thought of seeing it. Her. Sylvie. Sylvie.

"So gorgeous, I'd eat you up," he joked, supporting her as she stepped down.

"Oh, ha-ha," she shot back, eyes twinkling. "I just don't know why I put up with your bad jokes."

"Yes, I wonder what it could be," he mused, escorting her into the theater.

"Mmm, well, it's definitely not the sex," she considered, side-eyeing him.

Hal mocked injury, and she laughed, leaning her head briefly on his shoulder. He welcomed her familiar warmth. She was his lifeline, and Hal had never…ever been more infatuated with anything in his life like he was her. So damn in love, it hurt him.

"And dash it all, I just can not stand your pretty hair, your perfect smile, and those beyond gorgeous lips, so I suppose it's your forehead."

"My forehead," Hal chuckled, eyebrows raised practically tripped over a step staring at her smile.

With a laugh, she sat down on the steps, despite the fact that ladies were supposed to do this. Hal eased himself up to the same step, hooking an arm around her waist to pull her close, pressing his nose into her ringlets.

"I love you," she murmured, serious as anything now.

"You know I love you," he responded.

"So go buy me a drink, why don't you?" she whispered, lips twitching in a smile. "Forehead."

"I'll leave you in the box alone for a time, then," he said, smirking at her injured expression.

"I was kidding, Hal!"

"Are you sure, because I saw the line-"

"Come now, do not be like that!"

"then say you love it," he said, turning to scoop her up in his arms, ignoring the right out shocked expression of the straggling Lords and Ladies to their seats.

She tossed her pretty head so her hair hung over her shoulder. Sylvie gave him this adorably quizzical look, even though she bloody knew what he was talking about. Hal gave her a stern look, even he as he carried her all the way up the steps towards his booth.

"Come, I want to hear it, or I will not put you down."

"Fine, I actually find your arms quite comfortable. Clear view of that forehead I so love," she deflected, waving her hand about behind his head.

Hal threw her into the air, making her squeak. She hated being thrown.

"Okay! Okay!" she squeaked, and then said, "I love the sex."

"Again."

"I fucking love the sex."

"Once more."

"Fetish-y male."

"Shoot me."

"I could. But you wouldn't be slowed down."

"Say it then."

"I love your sex."

"Dirty."

He never knew how someone as talkative as her, could sit through an entire play, full of boring conversations, quiet as the dead. Sylvie's head was against his chest, her breathing steady as her heartbeat. Hal contented himself playing with her hair, the ringlets springing back in place.

And he ignored the bloodlust as easy as a passing thought. Even if it kept coming back. He could stand it when near her. Everything, he could stand. Idiots, men who deemed to look at her, and the general London weather.

She loved the London weather. Her pretty face, streaked by rain, dress ruined, maids running after her, leaving Hal to chuckle as he stood near the door. It was annoying, but he loved it.

When they returned to their manor, and slid into their bed, she kissed him lightly, eyes hooded with sleep. Hal slid an arm over her side, tracing the curves on her delicate body. Sylvie smiled, full lips curled in happiness. God, he was happy.

"Are you okay, Hal?" she asked him, resting her head on his pillow, eyes intense.

"I'm fine."

"I love you."

"So much?"

"So very much."

"Then that's why I'm very much fine."

She smiled, kissing him again, a perfect one, that assured him 10 times over that everything would be okay if she was there. Hal's breath almost escaped his lungs. If he truly needed it, it'd all be gone by now.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, drawing her close. "You know that, don't you?"

"No sex."

"That hurt me, right here," he whispered, smiling as she did with his poke to her chest.

"AW, does Hal need a hug?" she crooned, finger slipping over his mouth.

"Hal might need more than that," he murmured, voice low, as he kissed her neck.

"Does he now?" she queried, rolling on top of him, lower lip bitten.

"_Hell_."

Hal surged upwards, pressing her down on the bed, kissing her as if she was the only thing in the world. And to him, she truly was. God he loved her. He loved those lips, could drown himself in those adorable squeaks, and fuck if she wasn't the most beautiful thing ever.

Her hands twisted his hair almost uncomfortably, but he didn't give a damn, just bit down on her bottom lip in response. Not hard enough to draw blood, but... His arms slipped around her small waist.

"Hal," she whispered, voice strained.

Nothing made him feel this real.

Break)

They went to a gallery, perusing the Renaissance art exhibits. It was only for him, being that she decidedly did not appreciate art. But she'd agree to anything if he was to accompany her; and it was his idea.

"The first literature I see, I will rip it from the hands of whomever holds it."

"Will you?"

"I enjoy art, Hal, I just do not enjoy these men. Besides, you know how my love for text holds."

Hal's eyebrows rose and he glanced around. "Not even the Viscount, I know he may well be more suited to your taste?"

"My taste? What do you define that as?"

"I don't want to make you angry."

"Now I'm angry."

"Christ, Sylvie."

"Do not Christ _me_, sir, I will have my opinions."

"Then I am sorry to have offended you."

"Apology accepted, but you-"

"Lord Hal," A woman trilled.

Sylvie's eyes darkled, and her chest rose, the frills barely hiding it doing so also. Her glance darted towards him, and her small, silk fan beat rapidly against the side of her satin skirts. Hal chuckled, touching her curls, tucking it over her small ear before turning to Lady Sophie with a bow.

"Lady Sophie," he greeted, nudging the still turned away Sylvie.

She turned slowly, glaring out above the ditzy woman's bobbing head, ignoring the cheery hello and cursty sent her way also. Hal supposed it was worth it, getting her to turn the same way as he was. Lady Sophie seemed oblivious to the fact that Sylvie was less than happy to be near her.

"Hal, you will come to my name day gala, will you not?" Sophie questioned, blue eyes wide.

"No," Sylvie sniped, eyes crackling to a blaze.

"Of course."

They disagreed at the same time, which sparked anger in Sylvie. She glared at Lady Sophie directly on, and ignored Hal entirely. His hand griped lightly on the covered shoulder, quelling that ember of anger that would've, being her, spark a wildfire.

"I do not know," Hal said instead, smiling briefly at her.

He didn't go places with many people in them, and Sophie was a social butterfly, much more agreeable to argue with than Sylvie. Sylvie had the strongest opinion, usually undeniably smart, but her tongue was sharp as she was beautiful.

"Which basically means, we're not coming."

"Oh, Sylvie, why do you dislike me so?"

"Dislike? That is the farthest cry from my feelings."

"But Hal enjoys me."

Sylvie looked ready to wrap her hands around the taller blonde's neck. Being 7 inches shorter than him, and an inch shorter than Sophie, Sylvie could be easily categorized as an angry small woman. But that anger had its righteous moments.

Her eyes cut to him, and he shook his head slightly. He really did not enjoy the blonde. Sophie didn't, and had never ever made his stomach tighten, his heart skip, and mind overflow with joy with just her presence. Sylvie did.

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes he does. Besides, you are too outspoken for a lady."

"Excuse me, I do my Lady-ing just as well as you do."

"Hardly."

"You may kiss my-"

"Lady Sophie," Hal broke in hurriedly, breaking in between the two feuding women. "Please. Sylvie, I beseech you, refrain from this silly fight."

She swallowed down the next word, which would've been butt, with a strangled squeak. Hal knew he had to get the annoying woman away from then before she really tried anything. Which she would.

"Sophie, Sophie!" someone called.

She was flagged down by her brother, and departed with a smile and a sway of hips. Hal grabbed her waist, the one he'd encircled so easily last night, holding her back. Another person walked around the corner, seeing her wildly clawing at the air, and him, holding her back with all his strength. For such a small person, Sylvie truly did have certain strengths.

Sylvie straightened, clearing her throat primly, removing Hal's hand from her waist primly. She smiled at a family, friend, of course, earning a smile back. It was impossible not to smile if she fixed you with those surprisingly innocent brown eyes, and smiled a smile that made two slight indents in her cheeks.

"Sylvie. Still as radiant as ever."

"Of course, cousin. Thank you," she responded, dipping into a slight curtsy. "I trust you are well?"

"As ever I can be."

He bowed in return, continuing out of sight. Sylvie sighed, letting the smile go. Hal chuckled slipping an arm around her waist again.

She blinked brown eyes at him, resting her head on his shoulder. Sylvie. Sometimes, he could hardly believe she was real. How could something so gorgeous be tangible? It must be a dream. The bloodlust…it must be doing things to his mind, creating things like this.

No.

"I love you."

That one whisper grounded him more firmly than gravity.

"And I you."

"Can we go walking in the gardens tonight?" she asked.

"Anything you wish."

**Review, please; was it shit, how are your feelings on Sylvie (and I do try to keep it close to his description of her)?**

**AN: I bloody **_**love**_** Hal's past. I really do. And when he recounted that woman (it's always a woman with Hal, fucking go figure, but I still ship HalxTom, above Halex. I do) I was just, yup, gotta get this up there before I replicate.**

**Besides. Who doesn't love Damien Molony's acting? Well, never mind the ones that don't, but that scene, I was like, that IS Hal. Still shagging both of them, if it's ever possible. **

_**(Mousy?! His hair is luscious!)-**_**me. Just wanted to share my thoughts with you. **


	2. Gardens

"_**Tonight, we're the scent of your long black hair, spread out like your breath across my back." Sea and the Rhythm, Iron & Wine**_

(break)

Sylvie's laugh trilled over the gardens, and she pressed close to him. Hal tucked her close also, their movements to move closer synced. Her lips were quirked, some of her lipstick already coloring his own.

Her eyes slid up the starry sky, head tilted all the way back as to look at the moon. The path was fully illuminated, the tears hiding only some pockets in shadow. She was lit in a glow that spoke volumes to him.

She looked like a goddess. Hal would be damned if he took his eyes off her just for one second, just relinquished her touch.

His fingers sought out hers, distracting her attention from the moon. Her eyes softened in an instant, flickering over his face, as if memorizing it. Their fingers melded together, her dainty little pinky finger curling around his.

He brought her hand to his lips, the position almost uncomfortable. Almost. But not quite.

"The moon's almost full," he murmured, letting their twined fingers drop.

"I'm so lucky you're not a werewolf."

"I think not. You can lock me up one time a month, and you'll be safe if I don't get out. This, what I am, is a full time thing."

"Yes. But I'm here. And you're clean."

Hal sighed, stumbling off the cobblestone past as he held her even closer. They fell over a bush, her laugh echoing again. His arms slipped around her, sheltering her into his chest as they fell. He'd be damned if he was around, and she'd get hurt.

Joy wrapped around him again at another, if slightly muffled, giggle, telling him how much she felt safe. Safe. Safe with him.

"You are such a klutz."

"I am not."

"You are."

"What if I desired to fall?"

"You did no such thing."

"I did."

"Such a precious liar."

She grumbled to herself, head gently nudging against his chin. Hal's chest rumbled with a held in laugh, fingers stroking languidly over the silk of her shift. He would rather touch her skin, but; no matter.

No matter.

The night blurred together, random bursts of conversations carrying on till the late night. The sun's shine was just peaking out over the hedges, when she finally fell asleep.

Hal heard the most interesting things from her in her more drowsy moments. Something about pie, and ways she'd kill Lady Sophie if she moved her hips around like that in front of him again. He just smiled, and kissed her forehead, making comments here and there.

"I wish we could have children," she'd whispered, hands plucking down the white cotton shirt he had on. "And don't criticize me; I know I sound like a ditz."

"You don't," he'd answered, finger whispering over her smooth cheek. "Would he be as perfect as you, I wonder?"

"Typical male, wanting a boy."

"What do you want, may I ask?"

"A boy."

Hal shook his head, kissing her forehead at the thought of it. He probably should take her inside, being that he was becoming her only warm source, as things began to really dew over.

Just as he moved, she woke up, brown eyes cut in a glare. She sighed, snuggling back into his chest, hair slightly wet as it brushed his other hand. How in seven hells was she not cold? And being politically correct, he wasn't the warmest person out there.

"Move, and I'll stake you," she threatened, the statement not sounding all too endangering.

"Can we not continue this cuddling on the bed? Where those delightfully warm pans have been _all_ night?" he murmured, coaxing her up.

"Well, it appears I've made a deal with the Devil," she yawned in agreement, allowing him to pick her off the ground.

He held her with an arm around her back, holding her legs off the ground with a grip under her knees. Sylvie rested her head under his chin, plucking at a particularly wet spot on his cotton shirt.

"I drooled, didn't I?" She sniffed. "Damn, I hate that."

Hal laughed.

"It's your fault!"

"I highly doubt that."

"I suppose I should say sorry."

"Maybe."

"That's not the correct answer."

"What is the correct answer, might I ask?"

"'_Oh, Sylvie, you are so perfect, I love you. I do not see any fault in your saliva, and in fact welcome it on my beyond adorable shirt.'_"

"Should I really say that?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Sylvie, you are so perfect, I love you. I dare not see any fault in your saliva, and in fact welcome it on my beyond adorable shirt."

"You added sass in there."

"It is a certain specialty of mine."

"Maybe you should try theater. It seems to suit you."

Hal shook his head, rounding a slight corner in the garden. The large manor was in view now, Greco-Roman marble pillars supporting the grand house. Their bed was on the top floor, right where the pretty curtains where. Sylvie would claim over and over she'd sewn them herself, but Hal had gotten to the bottom of the mystery.

For one, Sylvie couldn't sew. Secondly, the serving women, though not taken to him, appreciated Sylvie, and had helped her make them; meaning that their seamstress probably had been the culprit in making them. Sylvie may have hovered over her shoulder, and _maybe_ that one jagged stitch was hers, but…

Hal smiled slightly, looking down from the window.

"You should take a bath," he fussed, eyeing the leaves in her hair.

"I suppose it was cold out there," she mumbled, ignoring his statement.

Hal walked up the marble steps, his slightly damp shoes clicking on the steps. There she was, deflecting again. He opened the double oak doors, entering the one on the left.

An early waking maid was sweeping the floors, and she greeted him as he passed, waving hello to Sylvie.

"You are taking a bath," he said sternly, giving the maid a look.

The maid nodded, dipping out of the room, down the steps that lead to the boiler room.

"I hate taking baths without you, Hal," she whispered, nuzzling deep into his shirt.

"I don't want to ask them to fill a tub larger than yours."

"Commenting on my size now. Hal Yorke, you're just making mistake after mistake."

"Sylvie. I was not commenting on your size."

She cleared her throat, fixing him with a gaze as he set her on the floor of her bedroom. "What do we say?"

"Oh, Sylvie, you are so perfect, I love you. I dare not see any fault in your saliva, and in fact welcome it on my beyond adorable shirt."

"Can you tweak it a bit?"

"Sylvie, you manage to be beyond perfect. Your love for me, keeps me sane and clean. And I could never thank you enough."

"That was actually genius. I think I'm drooling again."

Hal leaned close, kissing her softly, tongue slipping languidly into her mouth. They broke apart, and he listened to that soft escape of breath.

"I find that the drool is non-existent."

"…Damn you, Hal."

He smirked lightly, plucking at the corner of her dirty shift. The maid came in, plucking oils, and herbs from their cabinet, nodding at them both. Hal took that as the fact that the bath was done.

"Take off my clothes," she murmured, covering his hand briefly with her own as to slip the shoulder of her shift off.

Hal tugged the other strap off, somehow managing not to just rip it from her skin.

"If you weren't so dirty, I'd make love to you," he taunted, dropping a feather light kiss to her lips, then to her neck.

It was a declaration to him _and_ her that he could resist it now. Because of her. His love.

Her arm slipped around his neck, hand fumbling in the remaing buttons of his shirt. Hal kissed along her jaw, reaching for her other hand that couldn't get the buttons off. His shirt fell to the ground, and he smiled into the kiss, enjoying her hands in his hair.

"I suppose you'll be washing me, my Lord."

"I will, my Lady."


	3. Dance While You Can

_**Come on skinny love just last the year, Pour a little salt, we were never here. My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my. Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer. Tell my love to wreck it all. Cut out all the ropes and let me fall. My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my. Right in this moment this order's tall. -**__Skinny Love, Bon Iver_

"All over my corset," she grumbled, "all over it, Hal! Water!"

The carriage rocked them, and she stopped pressing her bodice. She kept glaring at him, brown eyes slotted in annoyance. Hal's eyebrows were up, wondering what the hell she was doing. It wasn't wet anymore, he was sure. She just kept worrying over it.

"That is frequently what occurs when you aim it near me, and I happen to be shielding myself from your onslaught with that key accessory."

Sylvie flicked her hair out of her eyes, peering out of the vehicle, and then snapped the curtain shut. They were left in darkness, being that Sylvie wasn't the biggest fan of the lamps that were to be lit overhead. Hal couldn't see her, and searched for a lighter in the darkness.

He finally lit it, seeing that she was still glaring in his direction. Sylvie refocused her glare pushing his face to the side. Hal let her do it, smirking slightly, loving her anger. Even if it was her fault, because she'd chased after him in only a towel, because she'd felt a reason to.

Hal really hadn't minded. She was utterly gorgeous in anything, especially close to nothing. Which is, honestly, how he'd prefer to have her most the time, in their bedroom. Pardon him for being male, but he'd have rather stayed at the manor, and just held her. But they couldn't barricade themselves in there; they had to hold up a façade for society.

"Look at my breasts."

"I am."

"Hal Yorke!"

"Darling Sylvie, you have been patting at them the entire ride. And, if I may point out, I am a male."

"You may not," she sniffed, flicking a light brown hair out of her eyes. "In fact, you could be quiet."

"We both know that's rarely a choice," Hal told her, voice quiet, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, fingers skipping over the satin.

Surprisingly, they both rode in silence for the 30 minutes to the gala. He was fairly certain she fell asleep. They had stayed the whole night awake.

Hal disembarked first, stepping down the two short steps the driver had disengaged. Sylvie was next, helped out by both of them, holding her skirts off the ground as she stepped down. He kept her gloved hand in his, guiding her up the steps of the large, white marble house.

She flashed him a grateful look, the pink of the gown almost brushing the floor. Sylvie hated nothing more than long trains, so hers was deftly hand-picked, and very much tailored personally to her. Pink brought out the pink in her cheeks, and she'd adored the pink embroidered hat he'd bought her, especially the pink feathers. And though she didn't appreciate fashion, being that squeezing her already petite frame into a bone crushing corset was hell he'd seen her be put her through, she certainly kept up with it.

"You look perfect," he informed her when they entered the room. "Men are already looking at you."

She always looked down like that, despite how strong she was. Sylvie, abhorred feeling out of place, even if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. No one here was fit to lick her shoes.

"I do not need other men, if you're looking at me," she informed him quietly.

Hal looked her in the eyes, drawing the top of her hand to her wrist. God, he loved her. Too much for words.

"Lord Hal, Lady Sylvie."

His heart almost froze in his chest, even as he bowed, hand still holding hers. Shit. Why now? Him.

The pretty blond man in a far more artful garb than him, with piercing blue eyes, and a snide, angry personality. Especially after Hal had stolen Sylvie from him. Even if she'd never, ever been his. Sylvie was his. And that was that.

"John," she greeted coldly.

"Lord John, if you'd be so kind, my lovely," he murmured, reaching to tap her shoulder.

Sylvie flinched, pressing close to Hal. Personally, Hal was concentrating on not ripping his throat out, and sucking him dry, before killing his family, _and _his brother by first ripping his testicals off. After watching him roll on the floor, he'd crush his head in.

"If you'd be so kind as to never refer to me as such," she sniffed, moving closer to Hal.

"Come now."

"Lord John," he snarled as a warning.

"Hal."

Hal almost snapped.

"Considering the fact, I disapprove of everything you two do-" John started.

"Must conflict arise everywhere you trod, Sylvie?" Sophie trilled, slipping up besides Hal, interrupting his Montague.

"Hal, I don't want to be here," She whispered, arm tightening around his.

He tugged her away. Then the bloody dancing started. But at least they were away from John and Sophie. The two blondes gazed at them from across the room, snickering. Hal thanked the stars Sylvie wasn't blonde.

They hovered on the edge of the dance, reclusive as always, and Hal enjoyed it. He supposed it was selfish, wanting to keep her away from society, even when she was so, so close. Sylvie didn't mind, just rested her head on his chest, not taking it off for anyone. Even if it wasn't proper, he loved it. Loved her so much.

His fingers slid over her head, holding her tight, whispering to her, how perfect she was to him. And she would whisper back, playing with his fingers.

"I think I am going to make it."

"Are you?"

"I love you."

"I love you."

Tears brimmed in her pretty eyes, and Hal pushed her hair over her ears, kissing her lightly, almost hiding her with his, though small, bulk. Sylvie's words cracked, and she pushed at her eyes, obviously desperately not trying to smudge them.

"Will you deem to dance with me?" he asked her.

She nodded, hiding her eyes from him. Hal desperately wanted to get her home. The first time they'd met. God, she'd been gorgeous, in that perfect blue dress, the way she'd danced with him that night. She'd been the reason he'd wanted to be sober, dry, no blood. Only her.

He placed his arm behind his back, dipping to her in the traditional style. Then they started to dance. Hal knew the real way she wanted to dance. Not with these barest of touches. The many times they'd danced, they had only had undergarments on. Yet he'd never seen a larger smile, never ever heard a brighter laugh.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked him.

"You. Naked. Dancing."

He arched a brow, smirk touching his lips.

"mmmm, dirty."

"May we leave?"

"Yes, oh my god, yes," she whispered, chest rising and falling faster than usual.

He practically bundled her into a carriage. Hal knew that she would've shredded her dress open, had he let her. Instead, he covered her mouth with his hand, laughing, trying not to let her curse like that.

"Sylvie, you are beyond ridiculous," he chuckled, nuzzling her neck.

"Why thank you," she mumbled around his hand.

They bounced out of the carriage, barely making it up to their room in time. He'd forgotten how the layers were. How annoying they were. In the end, he got them off. In the end.

In the end, everything was perfect.


	4. Revert

_We may only have tonight**, **but till the morning sun, you're mine**. **All mine**. **Play the music low**, **and sway to the rhythm of love**," Rhythm of Love, Plain White T's**_

* * *

Sylvie cracked open an eye, meeting his with a little smile on her lips. They stayed like that for a moment, just gazing at each other like lovesick fools. Hal leaned in, lips centimeters from her, waiting for her to move close. She just looked at his lips, eyes brighter than the rising sun that tried to peek unsuccessfully through her curtains.

"Do we have nothing to do today?" she questioned, lips touching his as she talked.

"Nothing," he assured.

With a happy sigh, she kissed him, chest thrumming with a little hum. Hal's heart seized in his chest, and he deepened this kiss, arm sliding over her waist, pulling her tightly to him.

Then a maid came in, opening the curtains. Hal glared off in the woman's direction, parting slowly from Sylvie's lips. She fell face first into his chest with a slight 'meep' of annoyance, leaving her face in his chest as the oblivious maid bustled around.

"Excuse me, Mia," Sylvie tried to make it sound light, but even in the muffled way it sounded from it shirt, she was angry. "What are you doing? I do try to instill the fact to you all that we do not care to being interrupted Saturdays."

Hal would snapped at her to get out, and go find something better to do with her time than break them apart, and throw a direct ray of sunshine onto him. Especially because now they'd be fairly obligated to get up and do something. Sylvie wasn't exactly the stay in bed after the curtains had been opened person.

"I'm sorry m'lady, it's just, this is your scheduled shopping day, and all-"

Hal put up a hand.

"leave. We will be down in short time," he said, words as light as he could get them.

The woman curtsied and bowed out, tripping over her feet to get out of the room. As the door clicked shut, Sylvie looked up at him. A second ticked by, then she laughed, making him smile tentatively in response.

"I suppose I do have something to do."

"no. No, no way in hell, am I letting you out of this bed."

"Let me write a letter then," she sighed. "Tell them to go get breakfast going."

"You don't know how much I hate that woman right now."

"Go do something," she laughed.

"I could easily take to the rising option of doing something that refers to you," he suggested, smirking suggestively.

"naughty, so early in the morning," Sylvie murmured, kissing him lightly on the lips. "now, were the hell is my comb?"

Hal got dressed in the time it took her to find her comb. He smirked in her direction, laughing at her terrible skills of not losing items. This only earned him a very unladylike tongue in his direction.

"Hal Yorke!" she sniffed prettily, sitting up straight backed on the bed, legs hooked to the side, shift hanging loosely on her tiny frame.

She didn't look as if she could hurt a fly.

"stake me, darling Sylvie," he chuckled, stepping out of the door.

He listened to the tell tale bustling of a rising Sylvie, the little squawks, almost bells and whistles of annoyance. Adorable. Truly, she was perfect.

Hal had decided to ride today, walking briskly to the stable, east of the gardens. To the west lay the city, where her letter of parcel deliveries would soon be sent. His eyes flashed briefly to the side, taking in the buildings, some big enough to be visible from here. Of course, they were only a mile or so from town. He'd wanted to be leagues away, 20-30 miles. But she valued contacts of hers, and hadn't really wanted to break them.

"Saddle James," he ordered the stable boy. "Quickly!" he called after the running boy.

The horse, dubbed James by Sylvie, was brought to him quickly, reins placed in his hands. Hal swung up into the the saddle, satisfied with the boys' job. James nickered, dipping his large white head, tail whipping slightly in his eagerness to go.

"Is that all you need, sir?" Mick asked, muddy green eyes wide, so obviously hungry, Hal wondered if he was looking into a mirror of old him.

"Yes, go to the kitchens," he consented.

Hal dug his heels into the horse's flanks, spurring the animal into a trot. He enjoyed riding, particularly with the comforting chatter of Sylvie. And she loved riding with him, adept at side-saddle, unlike so many of the ladies he'd ...well, eaten before her.

But Hal didn't want that with her. He'd been so determined, still so overwhelmed with love, that he wanted a life with this woman. Maybe...he could end his long life with her. Sprinkle away into dust with her.

Sometimes, she wasn't heaven sent, coming home just in time, when he'd think too much about blood. And it was hell, resisting the lust when she was gone. Sylvie knew exactly what he was, what he had been, and how hard he strove to resist what he had been. Yet she still loved him.

The sun set everything to a greenglow. A red bug buzzed off James's mane. Birds called to their companions' from the trees. They answered in pretty cries.

Hal was cold. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't place his thumb on it. Hell, he was always cold, why should he give a damn?

_You know, I really would like to go back, and drink everyone dry. Just start from the kitchens, and kill everyone._

The thought snaked in. And Hal saw no issue with it. In fact, he craved it, wheeling James back 'round.

What an excellent idea.

_Why don't I do it more often?_


	5. In the End

_"The truth is that I never shook my shadow, every day it's trying to trick me into doing battle...I've seen a million numbered doors on the horizon, now which is the future you choosen before you gone dying,"_ **Truth, Alexander**

* * *

He dropped off James, steps crunching in the slight stones littering the driveway. The horse clopped off the road, settling down with a slight 'huff; in the grass, nickering loudly. Hal didn't look back, just grabbed a branding iron from the stables. His weapon almost hummed to his ears as he looped it around. He missed this.

Hal hummed, clicking up the steps of the house, tapping the light instrument on the steps, using it like a cane. His lips twitched up, in a too wide smile as he entered the house. He turned, double-bolting the doors, kicking a settee in front of it as easily as a small log. It thanked quietly, and Hal trotted down to the kitchens, locking the back door. Only the stable boy noticed.

Pressing his finger to his lips, he shushed him, smirk touching his lips. And then his eyes turned black. Mick choked on his bread, stumbling back with a squeak. Hal ran him through, jerking him close, the poker hinged on the back of his chest, pain showing in those ugly, muddy eyes.

"I did tell you to be quiet, did I not?"

Blood sloshed over Mick's lips, and his eyes glazed over. Hal watched, pleasantly amused. What a handy thing, this poker.

Then he turned to the servants, jerking the poker from the boy's body, and spreading his arms wide. His eyes flickered black again, and he bared his fangs. Everyone jerked out of the shock.

The shock of seeing mild-mannered Lord Hal do this. Be covered in blood like the town crazy. Well, it shouldn't be all that surprising. Especially to that silly little woman, who dared to try and change him.

"Now, the rest of you, you can scream! You can run! But you can't _fucking_ hide!"

And they screamed. Hell, they ran. Like chickens with their heads cut off. Hal laughed at them all, catching a maid by her hair.

He yanked her throat back, digging his fangs viciously into her neck. God he missed this! All of the blood, and the screams, and the shouts. Hal hacked through the men, leaving them to bleed out as they tried desperately to protect the five or so maids that still banged desperately on the door.

Hal took his time with that bunch. They weren't going anywhere at all, and the other maids wouldn't be brave enough to jump. Besides, the window on the next floor looked out on a very rocky ground, and they'd just die. Maybe they thought he would stop if they looked at him with those begging eyes. He crouched before a woman weeping on the ground, all the rest dead. Hal chucked her under the chin, giving her a most understanding look. She shook like a leaf.

"Don't kill Lady Sylvie," she whimpered. "don't-"

"My dear, stupid maid. That is precisely what I have in mind."

The woman drew in a breath, shouting, "Sylv-"

He snapped her neck, rolling his eyes. Hal was so turned off to her blood by this pitiful display, he barely spared her neck a second glance, instead latching onto another still twitching maid.

"Can't anyone be a tad bit fun?" he called up the stairs, dragging his poker from the chest of a fallen butler. "You sir?" he leaned down as he jerked it out, wrenching it past ribs, scraping the heart, no doubt. The dead man just stared, and Hal sighed sadly, murmuring, "No, then?"

Hal walked up the stairs, taking his sweet time about it, almost straining to hear the whimpers of the serving women. He kicked down door after door, knowing Sylvie's and his room was down at the very end, the master bedroom. Thankfully, for his own dramatic purposes, they were huddling all in one room. What in hell's name was going on in the mind of these women? There was no strength in numbers where he was concerned.

One held out a pleading hand, asking him to stop in a trembling warble. He _tutted, _laying the bloody poker on the ground, stepping forward. Relief lit their eyes for only a moment, before the smile shone across his face. Silly fucking people.

He'd certainly given Sylvie enough time to run, hadn't he. She was silly too, thinking she could change him. There was no way he would ever be able to give this up.

Ever.

A maid tried to escape, the last one he'd saved just because he wanted fresh blood. Hal dropped the fourth maid, dead of course, to the ground, and stepped after her, catching up to her in a matter of seconds. She didn't struggle much, just a little tap of her fist to his chest. That was smart, he supposed.

He could barely contain his excitement when he came to the door. Hal looked back in glee at the drained, prone form of the maid, and waved to her to 'shush'. Adrenaline rushed through him as he opened the door, bowing deeply, mockingly to the woman, sitting like a brave little thing on their bed.

She looked so disappointed. In him. Not that he gave a damn what she thought. His attention was focused wholly on her neck, wondering just how he'd kill her. How he'd drag it out.

Hal took a towel off the rack, wiping his hands off, then his mouth. He dropped it to the ground, walking towards her. She still didn't look afraid. His blood boiled at that; he hated that resilience.

"Hal-"

He grabbed her chin, jerking her head to the side, then to the other.

"Don't blame yourself. I was stupid to think I could change you... wasn't I?"

"Yes."

Hal laughed in her face, loving the way she almost deflated. So determined to be strong.

"Shall I tell you something, my love?" he murmured, tucking hair over both her ears. "I never felt anything for you."

In a tiny voice, she answered him, looking him straight in the eye, "Love is a sin, anyways."

"I suppose it is," he agreed, shrugging. "Now, come. Give Lord Harry a kiss."

She did not respond. Hal bared his fangs at her, flashed his eyes black. All that made him feel like a preforming monkey. And he didn't even get a clap out of her.

He did want a tear.

"How do you feel, silly little girl?" he snarled, gripping her thigh brutally. "All your hard work, down the drain."

"You weren't work."

"Oh, but I was. That's all I was!"

"Hal-"

"Lord!" he shouted, nails breaking skin in his anger. Hal calmed, purring, "Lord Harry, love."

"Hal, you weren't work. I love you."

"You made me so weak, so pitiful. I, well, I could say he, thought about children! I've killed a thousand children!"

She flinched, eyes still locked onto his.

"But you knew that. Ah, you sad little thing."

A tear slipped from her eye. Hal raised the hand stained with her blood, and wiped it away, pressing a finger to her lips, triumphant. He'd kill her. And he was going to enjoy it.

He kissed her, fingers gracing her neck ever so lightly. Hal tipped her head to the side, kissing down her neck before sinking his fangs into it. Sylvie's arms slipped around him, holding him tight. Her grip became less and less strong with every swallow of blood.

Hal pushed her from him, standing, and exiting the house. Those curtains were fluttering still, even as he turned the horse towards town.

* * *

"What did you think of? I need to know you can be clean with things like that in your head. Please!" Crumb pleaded, eyes wide.

"Sylvie. I don't know why. It was over 200 years ago," he murmured.

"What was she like?" Crumb asked

"Breathtaking… Curious, mischievous, opinionated… Infuriating. Delicate one minute, foul-mouthed the next. My love for her was a physical ache in the pit of my belly that I never wanted to be free from. She thought she could save me. She thought her love, her friendship, her body, would keep me strong and clean. I always have a rough idea of when I'm about to revert. But this time, he came from nowhere. I was out riding, when I suddenly decided to turn my horse around, ride back to the house and kill everyone inside it, as if I was deciding to change into a warmer coat. I worked my way up from the kitchens and found her sitting on _our _bed. She didn't look frightened, or even surprised...just, disappointed. She told me not to blame myself, she said it was stupid of her to think that she could change me. I agreed. Then I laughed."

* * *

I forgot to add this. Sorry! I'd like to thank all the reviews, follows, etc. Warms my cold heart.

Follow my tumblr for continual Hal-ness. that-hipster-arsehole. I always follow back :)


End file.
